The Heir of the Faded Sun
by roach26
Summary: The Titan Army is preparing to attack Mt. Olympus. They already attempted to kill the Ophiotaurus, which would have given them the power to defeat the gods. While the Greeks fought, the Romans were entirely oblivious to their peril. It is up to a gang of misfits to warn them of the upcoming danger.
1. Prologue

**Hello! This is Roach26. You might, but probably won't, know me from working with my friend, winonabcd.** **She's currently writing a story called...actually, she hasn't named it yet. But its good! Anyway, this is my first fic, so constructive criticism only! Just kidding, review anything, down to even a missing apostrophe. I will change it. Perfection is perfect! Special thanks to Rick Riordan, and my editor-in-chief, Winonabcd!**

**DISCLAIMER: Seriously, does anyone here actually think I own PJO or ANY of its characters? If you do, PM me, so that I can tell you, in person, that I don't.**

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

79 AD.

High above the sky, farther than any mortal eye could reach, even if the circumstances didn't involve them screaming for their lives, two men watched the scene slowly unravel. The older man sighed sadly. "What a shame that I must leave this world, with my last sight being one of death and destruction".

The younger one nodded. "Indeed, Uncle. And when the Sun is needed most, to shed light on this miserable day. But, I am afraid you have little time left. This cloud of ash is almost upon us."

The old man furrowed his brow. "Vulcan has definitely outdone himself. I wonder what contraption he's invented this time."

"He believes he can perfect Talos. I don't think he can do it. I mean, look at the first one he made! That defective prototype is going to kill someone one day!"

"I know," replied the old man sadly.

He exhaled deeply. "This life has been fulfilling. Born as Helios, and faded away as Sol. Two different identities I have lived, and both have been delightful." A smile appeared on Sol's face, and for a moment he looked youthful once more. "And you, Apollo—you didn't even attempt to change. What were your words again?"

Apollo looked sheepish. "Yeah, yeah, you can't improve perfection, so what? I was young!"

"Oh, so having humility isn't included with perfection?"

"Whatever, _old man_."

The two sun gods sat in silence, one watching his impending doom, the other waiting for the inevitable moment when he'd last see his beloved tutor and uncle.

A look of desperation crossed Sol's face. "I am rapidly losing strength, nephew. Come, I must show you something".

Apollo became worried. "Uncle, what is it?"

"The Sibylline Books. I have . . . information. But only _you_ will know. Do not tell _anyone_, else the Fates will sew sadness and discord among us all".

Apollo's face morphed into a mask, but Sol saw in his eyes something that Apollo did not feel often: fear. Apollo grabbed Sol's hand for comfort, but immediately a vision engulfed his surroundings.

_A boy fought a giant _retiarius_ in a miniature Roman city. The boy leaped and stabbed the _retiarius_ through a chink in its armor, and the giant stumbled backwards. The boy held a statue head above the giant's face . . ._

_. . . and the scene changed. This time a young girl and an older woman stood in a cave, with a spire of precious metals slowly growing in the center. The girl looked up with a defiant gleam in her eye, hugged the woman, and suddenly the vision started to shake. Metals erupted from the ground, the walls turned red-hot, and the ceiling caved in._

_When the vision cleared, a chubby boy stood on a glacier, standing calmly as a metallic humanoid figure charged at him. He waited patiently, and suddenly he changed, morphing into a full-grown elephant. The two collided . . ._

_. . . and a blonde boy appeared, fighting on top of a mountain with another giant. The giant blasted fire, but the boy nimbly dodged. The fight continued, until their javelins collided, exploding in a nuclear blast of power._

_Next, a figure engulfed in flames was fighting a woman of pure white skin. The woman sent blizzards of snow at the boy, but none of it affected him. He pulled out two sledgehammers from hammer-space, set them ablaze and threw them at his opponent._

_A choppy-haired girl stood over the limp body of the blonde boy. She spoke, and even without sound you could easily see that her voice was resonating with power. The boy's eyes opened, glowing gold._

_Then, a blonde girl with startling grey eyes fought against a large blonde boy with golden eyes and a scar across his face in the middle of a ruined building. When he charged, she drew a dagger from her sleeve and blocked his sword. Stepping closer for leverage, she spoke, and the boy stumbled._

Apollo returned to the room in the sky. Sol stared into his eyes, reading them. He whispered "The Prophecy of Seven. I have been blessed enough to be shown the heroes, but they need to be guided along their paths. If they are deterred, then the Age of the Olympians may as well end".

Sol relaxed. "You know of my son, Aeëtes? His daughter, Chalciope, has a grandson named Hyperes. Could you keep an eye out for him and his descendants? I have foreseen that one day; a descendant of mine will receive my power. I hope that they will use it wisely, for the fate of the gods will depend on them."

Apollo sighed. It was not unusual for Sol, even when he was Helios, to make outrageous remarks such as this. Especially in his dire state, being that he was too weak to teleport away from his impending doom.

Sol's form flickered. "I believe that my time has come. You must leave now, before you too, are destroyed. The Sun will soon be blotted from the sky. I am dependent on it for life, but you—_you_ can escape, and claim it after it returns to us."

A single tear ran slowly down Apollo's cheek. "Goodbye, Uncle." There was a flash of bright light, and Apollo disappeared.

Sol looked down. He exhaled, then turned to stare as the ash cloud enveloped him, blocking his view of anything and everything, and thus extinguishing the Sun from existence.

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><p><strong>So whaddya think? Review!<strong> **Good luck with whatever stories you will write/are writing!**


	2. I

**Hello! It's been a while, no? Anyways, here is the next chapter to my story! My editor, Sarah Jackson (winonabcd) was traveling to America, so I couldn't get any feedback from her. But she's in D.C. now, so here it is! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If you think that you need to read this because you think that I know PJO, you are an idiot. JK! But seriously. Look into my emote's eyes, and think "Does he own PJO"? Here it is...ok, I'm bad at making emotes, but you probably get the picture. Anyways, if you _STILL_ think that I _MIGHT POSSIBLY, _even have the _SLIGHTEST CHANCE _of owning PJO, then let me tell you: I don't.**

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><p>Footsteps echoed through the narrow corridors of the house. The harsh sun rays shone through the windows, making everywhere hotter than an oven. Not a single sound came from the inside; the bedrooms were empty, the library was silent, and the giant classrooms were vacant.<p>

But outside, the noise was welcomed with open arms. Children's laughter buzzed through the hot summer air as they ran around in their sweaty T-shirts and shorts. Girls of every age and size were busy chattering in the corner of the house's large garden, which was the playground of the house's many children.

While girls chatted faster than a hummingbird's wings, the boys were climbing trees, kicking the ball, or just pushing each other around.

But not all boys were busy playing. One sat on the steps of the house's porch, soaking in as much sunlight as he can. The sun blazed through his skin, as fresh beads of sweat trickled down his face. In his hand was a cool glass of lemonade.

A young boy snuck up behind him, his fist clenched in a dripping wet fist, and with amazing swiftness, dropped an ice cube down the relaxing boy's back.

The boy jumped, and did a funny little dance that was made all the merrier by the fact he was screaming in surprise. As soon as the ants escaped his pants** (Metaphor: means he was shaking around a lot)**, he yelled at his friend "Noah! What was that for?"

The young boy, Noah Holtzman was his name, smiled devilishly. "Well, Luctus, I thought that you might be getting a bit too comfortable. Look around! Everyone else is running around, having fun! C'mon, we get to have freetime once a week, and how do you spend it? By sitting down, all alone! That's not how my best friend will be spending his freetime. No way!"

Tristan Luctus sighed. "Is that all? I believe you might have forgotten part of your speech."

Noah frowned thoughtfully. Tristan groaned inwardly at his friend's seeming, well, lack of intelligence, or for that matter, ignorance of sarcasm. He knew that his friend was actually very smart, especially in math. But calculating variables or multiplying square roots did not help him remember jack.

Recollection dawned on Noah's face. "Oh yeah! Also, get a girl! I mean, seriously, you have like, no social life!"

Tristan sighed again. "Noah, in case you didn't notice, we just turned ten. Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?"

Noah rolled his eyes, stating as if it was obvious, "No! Of course not! Dude, stop exaggerating! Have some fun!"

A smile started to form on Tristan's lips, and Noah shrank back in fear. He recognized that smile, and nothing good ever came to the person he was giving it to.

"You want me to have some fun? Well, in that case…" Tristan trailed off.

Noah shrank back even smaller, until eventually, he realized Luctus had stopped talking.

"What are you-?"

"Think fast!" With inhuman speed **(Hint, Hint)**, Luctus lunged forward, his icy cold lemonade in hand, and threw the glass's contents on the surprised young boy. Noah unleashed a feral growl, and sprinted at the other boy. They took off running, shoving each other, jumping off trees, throwing and dodging pebbles and twigs, until the orphankeeper blew her whistle and yelled at them to get inside. They walked back inside, still shoving eachother, 'til the old lady gave them a withering glare, giving them the usual threats: no dinner (Noah always hoped they'd follow through on this), sleeping outside, washing the dishes for a week, etc.

After dinner (which consisted of some kind of sloppy green mush), the boys went off to their room: a small walk-in closet sized room. It was packed with children, other kids who were rejected by their families or just didn't have any left. Metal bunk beds were shoved against the walls, and sleeping bags were stuffed into any open space. It seemed as if one more person lost its family, people would have to sleep on top of others.

Tristan and Noah, as usual, raced to the corner of the room, grabbed a bunk, and claimed it as their own. In the orphanage, there was nothing to get that didn't have to be fought over first.

The children said their good nights to each other (it took quite a while, as no one wanted to leave anyone out) and eventually, they fell asleep.

Tristan did not sleep well that night. He kept dreaming about a voice, a deep voice that threatened to take his family, his home, his friends, everything he cared about.

"_I don't have a family! I've lived here, in this worn-out building for my whole life! My only friends are these orphans, and they'd love to be taken from here!"_ he replied to the haunting tenor.

"_Ah, but you do, young boy. A home you've never been to, a family you've never met. But they're still yours. When the time comes, we will come for you. And we'll tear down your true home, and eliminate your true family. And you _will_ help us. When the time comes, you will help your uncle in defeating the gods forever."_

That statement resonated in his mind. He had a family? He had a home? At first he was so filled with happiness, but then he remembered what the voice said next. He thought about how he would find a family, find a home, only to have it torn away from him. He didn't realize that he accepted the gods without any difficulty, didn't realize that he acted as if he knew they were alive his whole life. Because he always felt as if his life was one big script, as if someone was writing out everything that happened to him, the discord, the strife, the sadness he always felt, but never showed.

He was told his mother died at his birth, and he was sent to the orphanage when he was only three years old after his father mysteriously disappeared. Ever since then, he'd been eating gunk and sleeping on metal beds or, before he got the speed, strength and wits to earn him a bunk, on the cold, hard floor.

"_Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3. Hey, is this thing on?" _The voice pulled him back into the present. Oddly, the voice thought that Luctus had somehow disconnected, and without an audience, he sounded much higher pitched than he had before.

"_Yes, I'm still here,"_ Luctus sighed, annoyed at this supposed evil guy ruining his sleep just so he'd fumble around with some sort of dream microphone.

"_Oh! Oh yeah, where were we?"_ The voice lost its sinister feel.

"_You were talking about defeating the gods."_

"_Oh yeah!"_ The voice cleared his throat. _"We will defeat the gods, and you will play a part in their demise."_

Luctus decided to play along, because this was becoming sort of funny, even though the actuality and initial certainty of the voice's statements scared him half to death. _"I'll never help you destroy my family!"_ he yelled at the voice in his head.

"_Ah, but you see, Tristan: I am family."_

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><p><strong>DunDunDunDuuuuuun!Press that magical blue button somewhere below these words! I can't actually tell while I'm writing this, but it's there nonetheless! Stay tuned for more<strong>**!**


	3. II

Tristan woke up in a cold sweat.

He had just woken up from something that had never happened to him before.

He'd never had a voice invade his mind as if he was talking on a phone or Skyping or something. Looking past the awkwardness during their conversation, the actual message meant to be sent, that's what scared him.

The voice seemed to know more about him then he knew about himself.

"Luctus, you okay man?"

Tristan jumped at the voice, and quickly looked down to glance at the speaker. He sighed when he saw it was only Noah, staring at him with confused eyes. Using the back of his hand, his wiped away the sweat, and gave his friend a reassuring grin.

"Yeah. Just… just a nightmare," he reassured, jumping off the bed. "Now come on, we don't want to be late for breakfast."

Noah frowned "I do. That stuff is… never mind."

Tristan laughed at his friend's finicky appetite. "Hey, at least we get fed now."

"Yeah, if you call that food. Why can't we go to Monster Donuts or the food carts or something? I mean, there are so many food carts in Portland, we should be able to buy some real food!"

"Yes, but there is one problem: we have no money."

"But the orphanage does! Trust me; if we can take some of that cash, then we can have a real meal for once."

Tristan looked worried: "I don't know about this Noah. What if we're caught? We'll be locked in the basement, or worse! Remember that kid, Damien, who tried to steal the orphan keeper's keys to the kitchen so he could sneak off with some extra food? Where did he end up?"

Noah was adamant. "No one knows, whatever. He probably was adopted before anything bad happened to him. Not like he was eaten alive or anything. What, you think that the orphan keeper is some cannibalistic old lady? Seriously, at worse we'll be locked up in the basement with no food for a week or something. And that's a reward in my opinion."

Tristan, seeing that this argument was getting nowhere, gave up. "Okay, fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

As they walked through the corridors of their prison/orphanage, Tristan felt a growing sense of dread. The voice in his head had confirmed that the gods were real, and it seemed as if they were walking towards certain doom.

The walls seemed to grow tighter, but Tristan knew that it was just stress. He had always behaved well; Noah was the one who liked to mess around. But Tristan always took the blame, because everyone liked Noah; he had that air of humor around him that made others ignore whatever he did wrong. So Tristan got in trouble.

When they arrived at the doorway to the office, Noah's face scrunched up in concentration. "Ok, so earlier I had swiped this key from the orphan keeper, and I assume that it's the one to her office, as it's the only key she'd need."

Noah inserted the key into the lock, creating an ominous click that echoed through the corridors, followed by an odd hissing noise. A smell comparable to dead rats and snakes filled their senses, making Noah gag.

Inside the office, the two boys found the normal office appliances: a desk, a computer, file cabinets, etc. An envelope full of cash was lying on the keyboard. It was a typical office. Yet in it, was a sense of dark foreboding, like they were being watched by a cold-blooded predator which was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

Noah pulled a twenty out of the envelope, not enough to be noticed, but just enough to buy a lunch. A victorious smile played on his lips, like he was saying: _I told you we wouldn't get caught_.

They snuck back to their rooms, and upon seeing that they were empty, Noah let out a triumphant laugh. He took out the money, and smiled.

"Should we go now?" he asked.

"No, we should wait until after lunch. Once everyone is settled down, then we'll leave," replied Tristan. He was still worried about what might happen. If they got caught… well, that orphan keeper and the other workers were strange. He didn't want them to find out.

After everyone had settled, when no one would be searching for them, the two snuck off to find the exit. They had never been out of the orphanage; they were sent there when they were too young to remember any of their previous life. They were soon lost, the corridors seemingly changing so that they'd be seeing the same doors over and over again. Soon, as they approached a corner, they heard the same hissing noise as earlier. Their hair stood up on end, as they heard it coming closer.

"_Naughty boys, sneaking around, stealing money from us."_

"_Yes, should be punished most horribly, yes."_

"_It has been a while since we have last eaten naughty children, yes. A feast we and our posterity will have tonight!"_

Tristan realized with sickening horror what the mystery meat chunks were in the slop served as food. Luckily, Noah had convinced him that it would not be good to risk eating whatever they put in their "food". As he turned to face him, Tristan could see that he had reached the same conclusion.

"_Come, Empusa, Mormo, a special treat we have tonight! Demigods!"_

Tristan sensed a presence behind him, and turned to see a dark shape hurtling at him. He barely got out of the way in time, and the shape landed on its feet, revealing a gangly man with cropped black hair. He smiled at him tauntingly and hissed, revealing sharp vampiric fangs.

Behind him another form appeared, this one a teenage girl. She looked like a typical cheerleader: flowing red hair, blue eyes, beautiful smile, but her legs ruined the sight. One was that of a donkey, which did not at all bring out the color in her eyes, and the other was a prosthetic bronze leg, which clanked and groaned for every move that she made. As she caught Tristan staring in disgust, she screamed like a banshee and her hair erupted into flames.

"Who are you people?" Noah asked, bewildered. Apparently he had not yet adjusted to the current situation, which required rapidly thinking of possible escape routes, not drooling at the cheerleader. Noah preferred seeing the good in people, not the bad.

The man spoke up. "Ah, a godling with some manners? Well, since you asked politely, I am Mormo, companion to Hecate. But, since she's been busy with the war going on, I decided to work here with my daughter, Empusa, and keep you kids from misbehaving. I try to set… examples… with the bad children." He licked his lips and smiled hungrily, his meaning clear.

The hot cheerleader spoke next. "I am Empusa, the first _empousai_. The gods stuffed me into Pandora's Box, along with all those other spirits. My mother is Hecate, the goddess of magic, witchcraft, dogs, and the most powerful deity in the world. When Olympus falls, Hecate will rule alongside Kronos, and we _empousai_ will run free, feeding on whomever we want."

Noah laughed, and, snickering, spoke to the girl, "Your name means 'one-footed'! You know, _en-pous_, one-foot? 'Cause you've got only one mule foot and we're going to die aren't we?"

Empusa was fuming with rage, snarling and braying like a donkey, her hair a bonfire. She was about to lunge at the idiot, but Mormo held her back, saying, "Remember, Lamia gets first bite."

"Who's Lamia?" Tristan asked.

Mormo smiled. "Turn around and find out."

Warily, Tristan did, and narrowly missed getting wrapped around by a snake's tail. At the end of the tail there was a body and on top of the body… was the face of the orphan keeper. But it wasn't old and wrinkled anymore; it was young and fresh, as if it a hundred years had been removed from her life. She had beautiful dark skin, lush golden brown hair, and blood red lips. Below her waist were scales that did nothing to detract from her looks; if anything, it made her more unique, more attractive. But her eyes were strange; they were the eyes of someone who had experienced too much sadness, too much grief. They were the eyes of someone who wished that they could not see, they eyes of someone gone mad. Tristan wanted to help her, to comfort her, to learn about what horrible things she experienced.

She smiled, and Tristan felt dizzy. "Hello," she said, with a slight accent, "my name is Lamia. I see that the others have introduced themselves; I suppose I will too. I was born a princess, the Queen of Libya, daughter of Hecate. When Zeus and I bore children, Hera was enraged. She murdered my children, and drove me insane with misery. She forced me to devour others' children, so that I'd survive knowing that others would experience my pain. And I was so overcome with grief, with the pain I was causing all around me, that I decided to only eat orphans. Children with no parents to mourn for them, so that no one will ever experience my pain again. I am sorry that I must do this, but the Fates, the cruel, horrible Fates, decree I must. I wish there was some way to avoid your destinies, heroes, but the evil gods force me to devour you."

The speech, as horrible as the outcome was, left Tristan filled with pity. This poor woman had been forced to endure a life she did not choose, become a monster that she did not want to be, all because one jealous goddess couldn't take out her anger on her husband. Next to him, Noah was openly sobbing.

Lamia sighed, and slowly slithered towards Noah.

"Goodbye, hero," she whispered. Noah relaxed, and right as she was about to bite, two large dogs came out of nowhere and jumped on Mormo, scratching and biting and mauling until he disintegrated into a pile of dust, one of his fangs left behind. They turned, and pounced on Empusa, and almost immediately she burst into flames, no match for the two mutts.

Lamia jumped, startled, and laughed triumphantly, shouting "Ha! I cannot feed on these boys if I am dead! I have beaten you, Fates!" Suddenly she began to convulse, shuddering, and when she calmed, her face was distorted, as if someone had sculpted her from a waning memory. She spoke in a raspy voice, "Come to me. Let me feast on your living flesh. Let me EAT YOU!"

She lunged at Tristan, but he had gotten used to avoiding attacks. He swiftly dodged, and sprinted towards the direction the dogs had come from. Noah was not far behind. The dogs lunged at Lamia, but they were shoved aside, whimpering as they hit the concrete walls. As she was slowly gaining, he heard a gruff voice say, "Over here!"

He ran to the area he heard the voice from, a slightly open closet with a blue triangle glowing where there was normally a light switch. He and Noah dove in, heard a whizzing sound next to his ear, and then heard Lamia scream in agony.

He turned around to see Lamia lying on the floor, staring directly at him, an arrow embedded in her chest. Her face was normal, beautiful again, and she spoke softly, her last words were "Thank you, heroes." She closed her eyes, and disintegrated, leaving behind a snakeskin cloak.

He turned around to thank his savior, but met only an emotionless mask, with hard eyes. It sighed, and spoke with the same gruff voice. "Let's go get the dogs. Come on, you're coming with us."


	4. III

Noah was scared of the big dude. First he's like "You're coming with us," and then whenever they'd ask him a question, he'd just look at them and stay silent. Now he was leading them through this weird tunnel that's walls changed materials every twenty feet. Once, they took a turn, and when Noah looked back, there was a solid wall right where they came from.

There were two others in their small party. One was a girl, probably fourteen, with intelligent brown eyes and freckles. She had brown hair that fell down to her neck, and an angular, pointed nose. She was the one leading the dogs, which hadn't moved since they were thrown against the wall. One of them was whimpering quietly, and occasionally twitched. The other one was silent and limp. After the big dude whispered a few words, their bodies bent back to normal,

The other was a boy, about Noah and Tristan's age, with a black buzzcut and a thin frame. He looked built for running, but his facial expression said that he would never show an act of cowardice. He had brown eyes as well, and a cocky look on his face, as if he'd never back down from a fight and that he believed he'd win every one of them.

The big dude spoke. "I know you're confused, and probably scared out of your wits, but don't worry. You're like us. You saw that snake woman-"

"Lamia. Her name was Lamia," Tristan interrupted, his face a mask.

"Yes, Lamia. Anyway, you saw her, and those other two, and you saw how they disappeared when they died. Those were monsters. Kids like us; we kill monsters. They kill us. It's an eternal battle between the forces of Tartarus and the forces of the gods."

At this, Tristan gasped. "The gods? You mean… they're real?"

"Yes, kid. They're real, and making our lives worse every second. But hey, at least some of us get these cool powers, right? Don't worry; you'll probably develop them after a while, if you get them at all."

Tristan looked sick for a moment, but quickly reverted to his unreadable mask.

They arrived in a large room with an open door at the end. There were a few kids lounging around: some were watching sports, others were playing foosball, and one was chugging sodas. He had empty cans littered around him.

The big dude rolled his eyes. Ignoring the kid guzzling sodas, who was twitching and vibrating rapidly, he spoke: "This is our home. We have to leave the door open so that time doesn't pass too quickly. As a matter of fact, it's been over three hours since we saved you kids."

A surprised look came upon his face. "Where are my manners?" he said. "My name is Rafael Vejov. My father is Aesculapius, the Greek god of Medicine and Healing." He indicated the brown-haired girl. "This is Katherine Torrington, daughter of Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft and wizardry. The two dogs are Stella and Luna. Katherine will tell you their story later." Katherine nodded, and gave a kind smile.

Next, he turned to the young boy who helped save them. As he was about to present him, the boy stepped forward and introduced himself: "My name is Jacob Wynn, son of Nike, goddess of Strength, Speed, and Victory. So, if you're ever team captain, you know who to pick." He winked and left to watch sports with the other two boys, who stood up and welcomed him. Jacob said something, and they all laughed.

Rafael walked over to the spazzy kid as he was about to open a 2 liter bottle of Sprite and put his hand on his shoulder, startling the kid. He said "Alex, I think that's enough. How about you go play Halo or whatever." Alex twitched his head downwards in a nod and walked off to another room, with beds and drawers in it.

Rafael sighed. "That's Alex. He's a little eccentric. He's descended from Potina, the Roman goddess of children's drinks, so that's why he likes soda so much. But he only likes to be known as the son of Minerva. Make sure not to mess around with him when he's sober; he can put up a good fight, even if he is a little geeky."

Noah had to agree on that last bit, but Rafael was talking again: "Katherine will give you the tour of them place, I'm going outside." He walked out the door, into what looked like some sort of basement. He turned and walked away.

Katherine smiled at them. "Come on," she said. "Let me show you around."

She showed them their bedrooms, which were on the opposite side of the main room as the girls' bedrooms. Near their bunks they found everything that they needed: clothes, toothbrushes, toothpaste, some weird stuff that Katherine called nectar and ambrosia. She said it tasted like "the best thing you've ever had". So, obviously, Noah grabbed a piece and wolfed it down. He gagged and spit it out.

"Ugh, tastes like slop," he remarked to Tristan, who was barely hiding his laughter.

"It's probably because slop is the best thing you've ever had, considering it's the only thing you've ever had."

Katherine smiled at the two boys, and then blew a high-pitched whistle. The two dogs bounded into the room. They were both boxers, with smooth fur, square muzzles, and strong jaws that looked like they could latch on to anything and never let go. One was larger than the other; it had brown fur like caramel and was obviously older. The other was pure white; save a brown crescent shape over its left eye. Its tongue hung out of the side of its mouth, and it wagged its tail happily.

Katherine indicated the larger one. "That's Stella," she said, "and that's Luna." She pointed to the white one, who was scratching her neck. "They were originally the mortal daughters of Astraeus and Selene. They wished for immortality, and my mother turned them into dogs, so they'd live forever. They can still die in combat of course, like Stella did earlier, but diseases and time do not affect them. And, they have spent so much time in their forms, that the only thing they remember of being human is their loyalty to Hecate, and, therefore, me." She smiled again, and left them alone.

Tristan sat on the bed. The mattress bounced beneath him, feeling softer than the hard ones they had back at the orphanage.

"So, what do you think?" Noah fiddled with some ambrosia, then decided to put it back where he found them. "Definitely better than the orphanage, huh? And to think we scored the jackpot…" He peeked outside their door, to see a few girls shuffling from one room to another.

Tristan rolled his eyes. "My dad must be the god. Because my mom died at birth, and since gods can't die, it couldn't be my mom," he said to himself, staring at the ceiling. He imagined seeing the endless sky, the sun shining brightly, instead of these dim, flickering lights on the walls.

"Yeah, probably. I wonder who mine is. Probably the god of awesomeness. It would explain a lot about me, don't you think?"

"Yeah, keep dreaming Noah," said Tristan.

"Dreams can come true Tristan. You should know that," replied Noah lazily.

Tristan felt as if Noah had read his mind. "What do you mean by that? "he said warily.

"Well, we got out of the orphanage, didn't we? That's a dream come true, if you ask me. Maybe this place will change the flavor of the ambrosia!"

Tristan felt relieved. He thought that Noah was talking about his dream—no, nightmare— from the previous night, the one he told no one about. Now he understood part of it. He had found a potential home, a potential family, and he knew, that the strange voice in his dreams, could potentially lead them to their deaths.

"Hello!" A loud voice from behind them made Noah and Tristan jump. They turned around, and there was a girl behind them. She was tall, with curly brown hair that fell in waves and deep blue eyes. She seemed calm, but Noah felt that that could change in an instant.

"Hello!" she repeated, a wide grin on her face. "I'm Talisa. I'm assuming that you guys don't know who your parents are, right?"

Tristan nodded.

"Well," she said, "don't worry about it. I've known that I'm a demigod for three years, and I don't know my dad either. It doesn't matter eventually. You just fight. Sometimes new guys like you come, and they hang out with us. Sometimes others that are here leave, and fend for themselves for a while, until they get taken in by someone else. Others die. You'll get the hang of it." She smiled and skipped away.

Noah definitely thought he could get used to this. Plasma TV, foosball, girls . . . yes sir, he could easily adapt to this. Though that one girl sort of freaked him out. The way she talked about kids dying as if it was normal. _She's probably just trying to scare us_, he thought. _I doubt that that actually happens often_.

Suddenly, Rafael burst into the room, beads of sweat trickling down his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had a scalpel in his hand, like the kind doctors use. As Noah watched, it enlarged to a foot-long blade. Just as the demigod opened his mouth to bark out an order, a terrifying roar erupted, and the ceiling collasped.


	5. IV

**Hey! I'm back!** **And so is Rick Riordan! He has announced a new mini-book, **_**The Demigod** **Diaries**_**! And... the first chapter of **_**The Serpent's Shadow**_**, the finale of the _Kane Chronicles_ trilogy, is released! Go see it! Once you're done reading this chapter of course! Behold, the AMPHISBAENA!  
><strong>

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><p>When the dust cleared, Noah beheld a horrible sight. He saw a large serpentine creature standing amongst the debris, roaring and spitting out a sickly green liquid, which sizzled and dissolved the ground where it landed, right next to a demigod, who nimbly jumped out of the way, a sword drawn. It had two heads, one on each end of its body, and a pair of chicken feet. It had feathered wings and small horns that sprouted from right above its glowing red eyes.<p>

"Amphisbaena!" Rafael yelled to the group. "Watch out for their poison! Don't let them bite you! And always keep an eye on both heads!"

The demigod who had jumped out of the way lunged at the monster, his sword outstretched. One of the heads glared at him, and then jabbed at the boy, its mouth gaping open. The boy dodged, avoiding being swallowed whole, but was nicked on the neck by one of its teeth. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain, shuddered, then fell silent.

One of the heads reared back to take a bite, but when it lunged, one of its eyes was pierced by a flaming arrow. It wasn't just flaming—it was actually made of fire. As he watched, the arrow disappeared, and he saw Katherine closing in on the monster, a small dagger in hand. She leapt at the beast's head, but the other head swung around and smacked her to the wall, where she fell limply to the ground. Stella and Luna stopped darting under the beast's legs and ran to stand protectively over their master.

Talisa ran over to the two boys, who had been watching the fight, paralyzed in fear. She held two bows in her hand, and another one slung across her back. She gave each boy a bow.

"Make yourselves useful" she ordered them. She did not look as easygoing as before. Instead, she looked like she was tense, as if she was about to release pent-up pressure in a wave of fury.

She unslung her bow; a large hunting bow with razor sharp tips and arrows with points like diamonds. She pulled out an arrow from her quiver, and sprinted through the debris, launching arrows and reloading faster than could be followed. Her aim was precise, hitting chinks in the serpent's scales and piercing its wings. The amphisbaena roared, as more arrows penetrated its flesh. Very few missed.

Tristan was the first to snap out of their trance. "Well," he said, his voice oddly calm, "let's get started." He pulled an arrow from the quiver on the ground, set it up on his bow, took aim, and fired. It flew straight, going so quickly that he couldn't follow it. It flew right into the monster's chest, where it pierced a chink in its armor, causing it to roar in anger. The arrows did nothing but annoy it.

Noah picked up his bow, and, still shaking in fear, pulled it back, and let loose. It flew like a rocket, straight through the serpent's eye, and out of the already damaged one. The monster screamed in pain, and began thrashing about, trying to fly away with its punctured wings. But it couldn't, because the holes in its injured wing let the air through, and it toppled over on its side, spitting venom and lashing out at any who came near. Eventually the close combat warriors decided to let it tire itself out.

Noah, Tristan, Talisa and a few others who had bows kept firing at the beast. Eventually, it had taken enough arrows, and slowly stopped thrashing, until it fell still, silent. It dissolved, like monsters do, leaving behind only its skin.

"Casualties!" Rafael yelled to the demigods.

"None sir!" yelled Jacob in reply. "But, Rafael, I think Jabez is hurt. He might not have much time left"

"I know," replied Rafael sadly. "Line up all injured demigods!"

The demigods set to work. There weren't many injuries—the demigods had a fair advantage in numbers. In the end, five were lined up next to each other: Katherine, the boy who had been poisoned, and two others who had been smashed by the serpent at some point. Another was just crushed by the falling ceiling.

Rafael cut off a bit of the monster's skin and force-fed it to the unconscious boy, who had turned cold and deathly pale. Even as Noah watched, the color returned to his face, and the boy let out a sigh of content. Then he started to snore. "Amphisbaena skin can heal any ailment, or at least prolong its affects. Eating its meat makes others attracted to you, and slaying one on a full moon gives one of a pure heart unlimited power."

Rafael set to work, being a doctor for the five injured children. All but one were unconscious, and he was groaning in pain. "Broken ribs," Rafael told him. "Here, have some ambrosia." The boy greedily ate it up, and smiled as the pain receded.

When Rafael had finished, he turned to Noah. "Where did you learn how to fire a bow like that? The very first shot you took went straight through _both_ of its eyes! Not only does that take extreme accuracy, but strength too! You'd need to have a lot of power in that shot in order for it to go _through_ the head!"

Noah was speechless. Eventually, he stuttered: "I-I-I, uh—I don't know! I just sort of let instinct take over! It was just pure luck that it hit its eye!"

Rafael studied Noah, as if he was trying to probe his mind, and find his innermost secrets.

"No," he said, "I think it's something else. Only a highly trained archer could have shot with that much strength and accuracy." He frowned. "Unless…"

"What?" Noah asked.

"Nothing." Rafael continued to study Noah, making him uncomfortable.

Later, in their newly restored rooms (Once Katherine had woken up, she used magic to repair their home just as it was before), Rafael summoned for the two new boys.

"Hey you two," he said as he beckoned them to his room. Since he was the leader, everybody thought he should have his own room instead of a shared one. "I was going to ask you what you thought of your first day here. It was a bit scarier than the others' first days, due to the monster attack. Usually they get a few weeks of training before anything attacks. Although, you two didn't seem like you needed it." When he said the last sentence he stared meaningfully at Noah.

Noah shifted, uncomfortable. Luckily, Tristan spoke up. "What was that monster?" he asked.

Rafael stared blankly into space, his thoughts on the monster. "That was an amphisbaena," he stated. "Its name means 'walking both ways'. They were born from the blood dripping from Medusa's decapitated head as it was carried by Perseus across the Libyan Desert. It's called the Mother of Ants, because it loves to eat Myrmekes—giant ants the size of large dogs. They normally live in the deserts, and don't tend to leave. It must have come from the Great Basin Desert, in Eastern Oregon. It wouldn't have come here unless something told it to."

He crossed his arms and leaned back against a wall. "No one should know about us. A few demigods have left us in order to join the bigger armies, like in San Francisco and Manhattan. They are like camps; everyone is forced together, but there are enemies within: cliques, groups, gangs, people who stay with their friends but don't care about others in their camps. They don't care about anyone but themselves and the others in their group.

"Here, we stay a family. Everyone stands with everyone, and if you don't, then you might as well leave."

He clenched his fist and set his jaw, clearly remembering something bad. "I left the camp in San Francisco, Camp Jupiter, because everyone was selfish. We had good praetors: Jason and Sarah were smart, and cared about the other demigods. Then Sarah deserted, and everyone felt betrayed; especially Jason. She took two others with her: Sabrina Harfang, daughter of Minerva, and Marcus Guderian, legacy of Mars. Sabrina came back, but Sarah and Marcus's whereabouts are still unknown. Last year, we got a new praetor named Reyna, and everything was happy for a while.

"But there was this one kid, Octavian, and all he cared about was power. He became centurion of the First Cohort, and he corrupted everyone there. They all followed him like little puppy dogs, and when he corrupted the Second Cohort, _my_ cohort, I left, hoping to find Sarah and confront her, maybe travel with her group. But, I found Katherine here in Portland, and we decided to help any demigods we found here. The Fates have been with us, and we have found many."

Rafael paused, staring directly at the two new recruits. "So, now you have a choice. You can either leave, or you can stay. Which one is it?"

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><p><strong>Beethoven's 5th! If you don't know who Sarah Jackson, Marcus Guderian, or Sabrina Harfang are, then ask Winona! She is currently writing a story called <em>Sarah Jackson—<em>_The Reflection_, which is currently being edited by _moi_! I don't know when she will post it, but you should hope so!** **Update soon, I will!**


	6. V

**Hello! Sorry, I finished this chapter, but I forgot to update! Whoops! Anyway, this is the chapter where everything is sorta set in motion. Luctus, Holtzman, and a few others will travel down to San Fransisco, and help prepare for the Battle at Mount Orthrys, a.k.a. Mount Tamalpais. But before they do that, they must survive Lupa's training! Well, enough of my talking. 3... 2... 1... ACTION!**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim PJO, Lupa, and Camp Jupiter.**

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><p>Tristan was dumbfounded. The last hour's events had numbed his mind and he couldn't focus on a single thought for more than a minute. He had just stared danger in the eye, and survived. Now, Rafael pulled them in to his room and had a discussion with them that seemed more serious than everything that had happened to him. Now he was faced with a decision that would probably shape the course of his life.<p>

Rafael repeated himself. "What's your choice? You can join us here in Portland, or you can join the larger forces in the big cities. It's one, or the other."

Noah didn't take long to answer. "I'll stay. I think I should remain here for a while, at least until I get my bearings. I'm still getting used to this monster-fighting business."

Tristan, however, couldn't decide. If he stayed, then he'd be able to remain with his friends, and it seemed that the kids here knew what they were doing. From the way Rafael told it, the other camps didn't sounds very good. But then he'd be endangering everyone here. The voice had told him that he'd find a family, and they'd be destroyed. Maybe if he left, then he'd ensure the safety of these demigods.

Noah looked at him with a look that Tristan couldn't read. What was it? Hope? Melancholy? Pleading? He couldn't tell, but he knew that he had to stick with his friend, no matter what the costs.

"I-I'll stay," he stammered. A weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders. Rafael smiled sadly, but his eyes looked joyous.

Noah, however, grinned widely and clapped Tristan on the back, whooping and hollering unintelligibly. Tristan smiled weakly, but then a pain seared into his mind, and he gasped. His eyes glowed brightly, and Rafael leapt into action. He pushed Noah away, bent down to grab Tristan by the shoulders.

He shook him violently, and frantically looked into his blazing eyes. "Tristan? Tristan! Answer me! Come on, what's wrong?"

Tristan could not answer, because he was too frightened because of what came after the pain. The voice had invaded again.

_Do not dare defy our will, mortal_, the voice thundered. _Just because you have prolonged the inevitable does not mean that it won't happen. You are still our pawn, and we will use you in the way we see fit. _

_Until you leave and face your destiny, any monster in my sphere of power will go after you, and you and your friends will fall. Then, you will be taken to the place where you will be of utmost importance to us. You will help destroy half of the gods' warriors, and there won't be enough heroes left to oppose us. The sons of the Sky shall rule once again!_

Tristan fell limply to the floor, his eyes flare brightly once more, and he passed out. His last image was of Noah returning with Katherine next to him, and all three frantically shaking him and trying in vain to keep him awake. Slowly, he faded into darkness.

As he drifted through the emptiness of his mind, he felt a gentle probing at his consciousness. It wasn't harsh and forceful, like the voice; it felt kind and tender, like a friend.

Suddenly, he was high in the sky. Below, he could see the city of Portland sprawled beneath him , and the sun setting in the west. When he turned, he saw a man, about Rafael's age: around twenty, with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a kindly face. His skin was very tan, as if he had been in the sun too long. He wore a Roman toga over a sleeveless white T-shirt, jeans and basketball shoes. He was smiling at Tristan, but it was not full of happiness; instead, it seemed to have a certain sadness, as if he was being reminded of his past, of good times.

"Hello Tristan." His voice made Tristan feel relaxed, as if he was talking to an old family friend. "Do you mind if we talk?"

"Um… no?" he replied. The man seemed to glow brighter. He seemed to age, as he took on the appearance of someone in their mid-30's. Tristan felt warmer as the man's smile grew even more comforting.

"Good. Because I need to tell you something." The man's face hardened, not in hostility, but in urgency. "There is a problem of utmost significance. The camp my grandson deserted, Camp Jupiter; they need your help. They do not entirely know the importance of the upcoming war. You need to inform them. I do not know if it matters that you personally warn them, but if they are not notified in time, then Rome will fall. It is vital that the forces of the gods strike first. If we don't, then a loss will be inevitable.

"I will tell you the location of the camp, but how to get there; that is entirely your choice. I know you are young, younger than most, but you are more powerful as well. Ancient blood, blood from the age of the Argonauts, courses through your veins, as well as the blood of your mother. You cannot discover your power until you are strong and experienced enough to use it. If you do, then you will be a tool; the enemy will manipulate you, and you will create such strife and discord that even those controlling you will beg for mercy. You must stay hidden, lay low. While stories won't be told about you, the gods will know, and you will know that you have played as big a part in the wars as any other hero."

His face softened. "This is hard, I know; after all, you are only a child. But this is the life of a hero. You fight, you suffer, you conquer, you die. But perhaps you will be lucky. Gather yourself, and start on your journey." The man cleared his throat, and spoke softly:

_Farewell, young hero  
>Embark on your own mission<br>I wish you good luck._

"What was that?" Tristan inquired, still overwhelmed by this new piece of information.

"A hint," replied the man simply. "Take good care of my son. He will need you're support, especially when you part ways."

And with that, a sleek red sports car materialized next to him, he entered, gave two short beeps from his horn, and drove off into the sunset, leaving behind Tristan to contemplate the events of the day. As the sun went down, he lost focus and drifted off to sleep.

Tristan felt his arm being poked. He groaned as he gradually sat up, his head spinning in circles. Eventually, the poking deceased. He opened his eyes only to receive a fuzzy image.

What was that?

He tried to focus, but the image only overlapped. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, hoping that somehow his vision would focus. Finally, the overlapping deceased, and a clear image of Noah's eyes were displayed in front of him.

Tristan jerked back, startled. "Ah! Never do that again!"

His best friend only grinned. "Oh, but what fun would that be? Besides, your face was _hilarious_! Definitely worth doing that again."

Tristan glared long and hard, climbing slowly out of his bed. His knees wobbled, almost causing him to collaspe onto the floor.

Noah quickly grabbed his arm. "Whoa. Easy there, Luctus." He helped him regain his balance, before letting go off his arm.

"Thanks." Noah only gave him a nod and a smile.

Tristan looked around. "Where are we?"

His best friend looked around, tapping his chin. "I'm not sure."

Tristan looked appalled. "You were here, waiting for me to wake up! How can you _not_ know where we are?"

Noah only shrugged. "After you passed out, Katherine tried to wake you up, casting these weird voodoo magic thingamajig. That didn't work, so Rafael suggest bringing you to this... whatever this room is. Then those two left, leaving me the sad job of waiting for you to wake up. And let me tell you, watching your best friend sleep can bore you to death." To this, he received some eye rolling.

He walked over to some cabinets and opened them, and began to fiddle with its contents. "So what took you so long to wake up anyways? I tried dumping water on your head, and that usually wakes you up. But this time, you slept right through it."

"You dumped water _on my head_?" Tristan stared at his friend incredulously.

"Yeah. If you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind."

"Well, that's great!" Noah commented, obviously ignoring the sarcasm dripping off his best friend's voice. Tristan just rolled his eyes, sighing slightly. Remind him why they were best friends again?

"So, back to business. Why _didn't _you wake up?" Noah put down the things back inside the cabinet, and went over to sit on the bed.

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, will it sound weird if I tell you I talked with a 20-year-old man in my dreams?"

"No," Noah answered. "But it would make more sense if you dreamed of Scarlett Johansson. She's hot."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Well, I talked to this man, who was wearing a toga over a t-shirt, or something like that. Anyways, he warned me about impending doom."

"So you're telling me we're all going to die?"

"No. He said we're _probably_ going to die, if we don't go to the camp that Rafael left in time."

"That doesn't sound very good."

"Nope. It sure doesn't."

They sat in silence for a while, until Rafael's head popped in their room. He saw Tristan up and awake, and smiled. "Hey, looks like Sleeping Beauty is finally up, huh? Seriously, it's like Somnus had you under his spell or something."

The younger boys asked simultaneously: "Who's Somnus?"

"He's the Roman god of sleep." He noticed their solemn expressions. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Tristan described his dream, and his past dreams, to Noah and Rafael. Sometime through, Katherine walked in, and they filled her in on what she missed.

When he finished, Rafael frowned and scratched his chin. "Well," he finally said, "I guess you've got to go. But ask that guy when the deadline is, cause you're going to need some serious training before you meet Lupa."

"Who's Lupa?" Tristan questioned.

"She's the camp trainer. If you pass her test, then you are allowed to try out for the legion."

"What if you fail?"

"Then you better be able to run. Fast. Ever heard the term 'hungry like the wolf'?"

"Yes," Noah replied. "Why?"

"Because, she is the hungriest wolf you'll ever meet. If you're lucky. There are other wolves to whom you'd be much less willing dinner." Rafael stood, stretched, and cracked his knuckles. "Well, let's get training."

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><p><strong>You read it yourselves! Here we go, on an all new adventure! Monsters will be killed, people that may or may not actually matter will be killed, and <em>someone<em> will have to run for his life! Maybe. I haven't actually gotten that far yet, but that certain _someone_ will have to part ways with the group.**

**P.S. SPOILER ALERT!**


	7. VI

**Hello again! It's been awhile since I've last updated, and I'm sorry to say the next update will probably not come out for awhile as well. 7th grade is a big jump from last year, and since we share most of our classes with 8th graders, it's like we are skipping a year. So it's difficult. ****But I'll keep trying** **to work on it as much as I can.**

**Anyways, here it is! Time for training!**

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><p>According to Rafael, it was night. Really, Tristan couldn't tell, because in this… underground place, there was no natural light that reached down to the halls. But everyone was bustling around, fighting over the single bathroom, hanging out trying to get the last bits of conversation before lights out, etc.<p>

The other guys in his room helped him and Noah out as well. They introduced themselves, but Tristan couldn't remember their names very well. Aleron, Solomon, Jonah, Jackson, Peter; he could remember their names but would probably forget who they belonged to overnight. He got back to his bunk, his toiletries laid out neatly in front of him.

"Lights out," Rafael said loudly, seemingly from nowhere. Tristan whirled around to locate the speaker, but the lights quickly flashed off. With no moonlight, it was pitch black. Tristan had to climb under covers with no source of light. When he eventually succeeded, he only could hope that his dreams would be silent this night.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck. As soon as his mind left the restraints of his body, he felt a powerful force push itself into his consciousness, enveloping his thought.

The next thing he knew, wind was slapping him in the face. Around him, people buzzed back and forth, moving hurriedly as they talked into their cell phones or Bluetooth. Different people walked around—some short, some tall, and others had green hair, or a business suit on. Tall skyscrapers loomed over him, casting weird shadows over the bustling city. Everywhere he looked, giant yellow taxicabs roamed the streets—New York taxicabs. How had he gotten so far away?

"I'm sorry I had to bring you this far," a voice suddenly broke in, interrupting his thoughts. Tristan turned his head to see a man searching through a purse, pulling out all sorts of things—parcels, letters, and all that junk. "You see my clients are currently around this area."

"Um, I'm not entirely sure what you mean." Tristan watched the man pull out his ringing phone, which he quickly silenced and shoved it in his pouch. He swore he heard the phone yell, "_Ow_!"

The man smiled. "My name's Mercury. Messenger god, at your service."

_What the heck?_ Tristan thought to himself. _That's three gods in one day! What do they want from me?_ But he kept his mouth shut.

Unfortunately, the god seemed to hear his thoughts. Luckily, it did not seem to anger him.

"We don't want anything from you, Tristan. In fact, I'm just here to... help you out for future needs." He winked, reaching inside his purse.

Tristan just watched curiously, thinking of all the things that could come out of it. Weapons? Food? Godzilla?

Mercury seemed to be picking up his thoughts, and smiled at the boy. He just dug deeper, until his elbow was gone. Tristan didn't think it was possible for a purse to be that deep. But Mercury's bag didn't seem full of possibilities. It seemed to be filled with _im_possibilities, if that even made sense.

Finally, the god pulled out a parcel, the box covered in a nice thick brown wrapping. "That one's for you. It might come in handy." He then pulled out another, this time rectangular and much longer. Tristan wondered what could be inside. "And that one is addressed to Noah Holtzman. His, ah... godly parent sent this through the mail. Signed _anonymous_, though. I'm pretty sure it can't be his mortal parent."

"Yeah, his mortal parent either died or abandoned him years ago," he said distractedly, taking the parcels in his hands, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. He couldn't wait till he showed Noah the gifts, so that they could finally open them together and see what was hidden inside.

Mercury just smiled, as if he knew the whole story. But something in his eyes told him that he in fact didn't.

"Make sure you don't open them until you're on your quest. It would be a shame for those gifts to go to waste. I have a feeling you'll need them on the road."

His phone rang again, and he gave an exasperated sigh. "I'd love to stay and chat, Tristan, but I really must go. But there is one thing you should do before you make any more plans; train like there's no tomorrow. And _then _you can head to Camp Jupiter."

"Wait!" But Mercury had already picked up his phone, and Tristan was surprised to see two snakes twining around it.

_What're you looking at kid? You know it's impolite to stare_, said a voice inside his head.

"Shut up George," Mercury said irritably. His phone elongated into a giant winged staff, and he erupted into a shining light that burned Tristan's eyes, and the dream ceased.

Tristan woke up on his bed, and was surprised to find the two packages still in his arms. He wondered if he should shake them, like he had seen in the few movies or books he'd encountered in his life at the orphanage. _It wasn't that bad,_ he realized. _At least we were taught basic schooling, and had a bit of normal things_ _every once in a while_. After contemplating the pros and cons, he decided not to. In the stories, whenever a present was shaken, nothing good ever happened.

Tristan seemed to have woken up just in time. The boys were all seeming to awaken, some putting pillows over their heads, others already walking around. Two identical boys were talking to another, the latter who looked as if he was extremely bored or indifferent about the conversation. One of the twins saw Tristan looking over, and motioned for him.

Tristan reluctantly walked over, unsure of himself. The twin smiled invitingly, nudging his brother, who noticed and smiled weakly, but the other boy just rolled his eyes and moved into a more comfortable position.

"Hey!" The first twin asked. "What's your name?"

"Uh, I'm Tristan. Tristan Luctus."

"Hi. I'm Jonah Paciano. This is my brother Solomon, and that is Aleron Jabez." He indicated each boy respectively. "We've been here for a long time. Dad sent us to Rafael when we were you're age. He knew that it would be safe for us here. And it has been." Jonah looked at Aleron, who was still acting uninterested.

"Aleron was one of the first demigods that Rafael took in. He was running away from the cops, because he stole some money and a laptop." Jonah looked uncertainly at Aleron. "Is that right?"

"Yes," Aleron said simply. His voice was deep, with a slight Italian accent. "I like money. And laptops can be sold for lots of money. My father would have been proud." He lapsed into silence again, pulling out a curved dagger which he examined carefully.

After a few moments of awkwardness, Jonah resumed speaking. "Our dad is Apollo. We didn't meet him until… until he sent us to Rafael one night."

"Until mom died." Solomon interrupted, speaking for the first time.

Jonah shot him a dirty look, then resumed his speech. "Yes, then. He brought us to Rafael, and we learned how to fight. Aleron's dad is Mercury. You know, god of thieves, sports, literature, wit, et cetera."

Jonah sighed a bit, as if he didn't know what else to say. Eventually, Aleron spoke up. "Rafael is a Roman. He teaches us only of the Roman ways; the only ways he's learned. Occasionally, Greek campers chance upon us, like Peter over there—" he pointed at a very young boy talking to Jacob and Jackson, "—and the Greek kids can learn a bit about the Greek ways. Everything else we get from dusty old books from Multnomah County Library or the Internet."

Jonah interrupted hastily. "We try to use the Internet as little as possible, as well as any other technology that is a form of communication. It acts as a signal to any nearby monsters in the area. Also it doesn't work down here. So no phones, although Rafael has an iPhone and we've got a landline."

Tristan had many more questions to ask, but eventually he decided on just one. "How do you support yourselves here? Do any of you have a job?"

Jonah answered this time. "Rafael works at OHSU, and he also goes to college there. Occasionally the gods drop off some cash to pay for whatever new kid that's appearing. Us three work at a gas station. Enough people have jobs here to support us, and Aleron handles whatever we don't have enough money to buy."

"Oh," was the only reply Tristan could think of. He began to contemplate his decision about staying here—it appeared he was now it a gang of outlaws—when Rafael came in, Noah lagging behind.

"Time to start training," Rafael declared firmly. "I know a place where there's tons of warfare stuff. Swords, archery, axes, even modern guns. You can find your niche pretty quickly there." He looked around the room, and all eyes were on him. He had an air of authority that made people want to follow him, and you could tell he had the ability to make good off this.

"Does anyone else want to come?" He asked the crowd of demigods. A few raised their hands; they were Peter, Talisa, Jackson, and three other girls, two of which looked like teenagers and the third looked even younger than Tristan, only seven or eight. "Okay," Rafael called to the small group of demigods following in his wake, "we're going to Aaron's to train. Got it?" He addressed this last part to the older children, who nodded or communicated their understanding in some other way.

They set off through the maze of corridors, the walls changing from brick to marble to concrete. Eventually Tristan walked up to the apparent leader of the group, a teenage girl with braided black hair that overlapped and weaved on her head. "How do you know where you are going?" he inquired curiously.

The girl looked at the young boy coldly, like how a wealthy merchant's daughter would look down on a poor, lowly peasant boy. She obviously was proud, or thought highly of herself. Tristan didn't like it, and he warily put his guard up. He'd experienced this with some kids at the adoption center; kids that had actually met their parents and remembered them. They thought they were so special, that they should be treated better even though others had experienced the same thing. With difficulty, Tristan returned his focus to the girl, who was speaking to him now.

"Do you really need to know?" She asked him. She was kind enough to not refuse or insult him, but it was obvious she didn't want to deal with Tristan at the moment. It seemed like she was trying her best to tolerate him.

"If you would be so kind," Tristan replied through gritted teeth, less kind than before, implying with his tone that he noticed her unpleasantness.

The girl sighed, infuriating Tristan with her rudeness. "Well," she said, "If you _must_ know, my mother is Ariadne, the wife of Dionysus. In her mortal life, the great hero Theseus pleaded for my mother's help because he knew she could see the paths through the Labyrinth, which he was maneuvering through in order to defeat the Minotaur, a great beast that roamed its corridors.

"After his success with the monster, Theseus took Ariadne on his ship and promised to marry her. However, he betrayed her and left her on an island. The god Dionysus, himself a deified mortal, saw her beauty and, captivated, took her as his own wife. She passed down her sight to me. Now, please go. I need to focus on the task at hand." After this speech, the pompous, haughty girl looked forward once more, muttering some words in some language Tristan couldn't understand. He turned away and walked back to Rafael, who was in the back of the group with Peter.

"—happening at the other camp?" Rafael was asking.

Peter replied, his voice strangely old and experienced for someone so young. "Last winter, the Hunters and some campers went to San Francisco to save Artemis from Atlas. We know that the Titans are gathering an army, and they plan an attack on Olympus. Per—" Peter caught sight of Tristan watching and stopped suddenly, unsure what to do. Rafael also saw him, and rushed into introductions.

"Tristan, this is Peter Mallon. We chanced upon him a while back, traveling by himself. He's been giving me information about the camp in Manhattan. And, uh…" Rafael looked uncomfortably at Peter, whose young eyes stared calmly back. He looked young, too young to be found traveling by himself. "… how old were you again?" He asked Peter awkwardly.

"Thirty-six," replied Peter, composed as ever. "Peter Mallon, Son of Hebe, goddess of youth. Explains my appearance." He smiled, but Tristan had the sudden urge to check his pockets. He couldn't trust that smile.

Anxious to change the topic, Tristan asked Rafael: "Who is the girl leading us?"

Rafael looked to the front of the group, at the girl that had been so haughty earlier. "Oh, that's Lyra. I guess you've met her already. Found her wandering the Labyrinth; or maybe she found us. Anyways, I heard she was spoiled as a kid; her mother _was_ a princess after all, albeit a nice one. I don't know why she left where she came from, because she doesn't share much about herself. All I know is… not much.." Again they lapsed into uncomfortable silence, with Peter staring straight ahead, Rafael staring at his feet, and Tristan staring at the two.

Eventually, they reached a stop. Lyra put her hand against the wall, and a blue triangle began to glow. A section of the wall groaned and swung back, revealing a dusty broom closet. It was void of any object, but the closet ended at another door in front of them. Rafael moved to the front and swung the door open, they walked quietly in; Tristan and Noah hanging in the back. Rafael looked back and forth, searching for something.

Suddenly Tristan felt something cold on his neck. It dug into his skin, and when he slowly turned around, he saw a long knife under his throat. The holder of the knife was an adult male, in his early twenties, with short brown hair cropped military style, a nasty grin like someone who enjoyed scaring others, and shades that reflected Tristan's frightened face back upon himself. His grin widened devilishly, and when he removed his sunglasses, his eyes glinted bright red. Tristan could read so much from those eyes: the man was mischievous, intelligent, and he seemed to be happy about something.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The man asked himself gleefully, his voice instilling fear into Tristan's overactive imagination.

* * *

><p><strong>There! Cliffie!<strong> **Haha! Don't worry, no one will die... probably...**


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